


Not Quite A Gentlemen's Sport

by TricksterGabe



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: "I taught him that", Aramis and Athos for a moment, Gen, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterGabe/pseuds/TricksterGabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos teaches d'Artagnan some not quite gentlemanly fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite A Gentlemen's Sport

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the deul in 1x02

“Right, now all that gentlemen fightin’ is well and good but you won’t get anywhere with it. I mean Athos’ is good for teaching that, can’t find a better swordsmen, Aramis can shoot the best of anyone here, but me? I’ll teach ya how to win.” Porthos is walking a slow circle around d’Artagnan as he speaks. Athos and Aramis had drawn Palace duty and so it fell to Porthos to train their young protege before patrols. “Now first thing you need to remember, is stay alive. Biting, kicking, gouging, it’s all good.”

 

“But I was --” d’Artagnan starts and Porthos stops the sentence with a swift kick to the back of the knees, sweeping d’Artagnan’s feet from under him. The younger releases an indignant yelp at the mistreatment.

 

“All I’m sayin’, is while honor and proper conduct have their places, not everyone was raised a gentleman.” Porthos towers over d’Artagnan’s recovering figure, “ And it’s best not to be caught on your arse.” He punctuated the sentence with a sharp shove to the boy’s shoulder unbalancing him forcing him to land heavily on his ass, again. The gascon was losing his temper now, face starting to flush as he quickly leapt to his feet, eyes securely fastening on the imposing figure of his mentor.

 

“This is why we laid aside our weapons isn’t it?” d’Artagnan asked his voice turning sharp as he continued, “So I wouldn’t be able to best you in fencing, again.”

 

“Rubbish.” Porthos starts walking d’Artagnan through some basic sweeps, felling the boy countless times before forcing him to go through the motions against the air. He also goes through different holds to keep a stronger opponent at bay while keeping them awake for questioning.

 

* * *

 

They continued practicing until lunch and after lunch Porthos declared that they were going to spare.

 

“Right, now remember. No code of conduct, no gentlemen’s rules, the point of this is to restrain or debilitate your opponent.” There is a devilish smirk playing on Porthos’ lips as he keeps his eyes trained on his charge.

 

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll hurt you?” a teasing tone is in d’Artagnan’s voice for the question but quickly falls into a scowl as Porthos simply laughs at him. His pride wounded d’Artagnan charges swing a fist wildly as a feint, following in closely with an uppercut that Porthos quickly sees through. They continue to trade blows, the younger landing none of his hits and the elder landing a few blows that serve as warnings of openings left from each stance. D’Artagnan finally gets lucky with one of the sweeps that Porthos ground into his head earlier that day, standing above his fallen mentor the boys face lights up in a delighted grin. Porthos just smiles backs and kicks up next to d’Artagnan’s hip, forcing the boy to stumble back.

 

“Now if you’re ever in a duel and need a moment to scramble up i suggest aiming for something a little more damaging.” amusement colors his voice as he returns to his combative stance. “Again.”

 

They continue sparring for most of the afternoon, d’Artagnan occasionally getting annoyed at the restraint Porthos is obviously showing. They end training with one last spar. Porthos is commenting on d’Artagnan’s  unprotected ribs when and unexpected elbow catches him in the shoulder, and true to all that Porthos has been teaching him d’Artagnan presses his advantage and sweeps a leg, removing Porthos’ support. Throwing himself on top of the older man in an attempt to restrain him in the headlock he had spent so much time learning, not quite managing to get Porthos into the proper positioning though.

 

“Really? We spend all day slaving away with the Captain and we come back to you two rolling in the dirt like children?” Aramis’ voice cuts through the grunts and thuds of the two squabbling on the ground. Porthos and d’Artagnan stop mid-scuffle to find themselves looking at the boots of Aramis and Athos. Both men look down, Aramis’ face is split into a fond smile while the corner of Athos’ mouth starts to twitch.

  
“I was just teaching young d’Artagnan how to fight.” Porthos explains, easily extracting himself from the tangle of limbs they had become. He stands up, ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair as he move to gather his things. “But I think that’s enough for the day.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Also sorry I'm crap at naming stuff.


End file.
